


i can't pretend

by sugdensquad



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Little bit of angst, M/M, Not too much, Robron Week, but you know me, i can't resist, marriage talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugdensquad/pseuds/sugdensquad
Summary: It's mid-January 2015 and within the confines of a damp and frozen barn, Robert and Aaron somehow stumble upon the topic of marriage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for Day 2 of Robron Week! This was absolutely not the intended fic but inspiration struck me late last night and I rolled with it. Not sure why exactly but this has become my favourite fic so I hope you all enjoy it as well x

The hay is horribly damp through Robert’s boxers and he feels the wet patch forming on his backside as he wriggles further onto the blanket. For mid-January it’s surprisingly mild but there’s a low fog suspended just above the ground and the barn has decided to spring about ten new leaks since their last jaunt up here.

Aaron hasn’t said a word since they rolled off each other, breathing hard in the cool silence, air unfurling from their parted lips like smoke. Robert’s getting used to him being quiet, to not speaking even when there’s evidently something on his mind. He’s learning to just wait it out, push when he feels it's necessary and hang back when it's not. It’s a little strange, reading someone this well when they’re apparently so unreadable to everyone else. It’s strange making this level of effort for someone who’s no more than a quick fling before his nuptials.

He doesn’t dwell on it. No point, not when he’s going to be a married man next month and all - _this_ \- will be over and done with.

Still, he glances over all the same, takes in the slight twitch of Aaron’s cheek as he grinds his teeth together, the unwavering blue-eyed stare which is directed straight towards the rafters. Robert wants to prod him right in the ribs, get him to look round, but he’s not comfortable enough yet to do something like that. He’s not going to demand attention like some pathetically weak-willed boyfriend. They get together to fuck, not to talk about their feelings. He really shouldn’t care.

“Stop watching me.” The words are clipped, a clear warning to back off now, and yet it’s never sounded more like an invitation to Robert’s ears.

“Wouldn’t have to if you actually said something instead of just lying there. I’ve known corpses livelier than you.” It’s the verbal equivalent of a prod to the ribs and it gets the desired result: Aaron twists his neck so he’s able to glare at Robert from under sooty lashes and Robert just flashes him a smile in return. _Victory is mine._

Only it’s not, because two seconds later and Aaron’s back staring at the ceiling, hands resting palm-down on his chest, his breathing even and heavy against the hush of the barn. Robert focuses for a second on the metallic plink of the water droplets falling from the beams into the bucket in the corner, the sound like a metronome that he ends up keeping time with, finger tapping against his bare hip.

He should leave. Chrissie will be wondering where he is, will likely have already left him a message, and he’s got work to do, a life to get back to. But it’s quiet here and oddly peaceful, even if Aaron’s stubborn silence is making him restless. He doesn’t want to go just yet.

“We should be making the most of this, you know,” he tries, and he’s aware that this isn’t the best conversation to be having, especially when he’s trying to nudge Aaron in the direction of more sex. “We’ve only got about a month and then we’ll have to call time. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

He counts out the drops of water – _1, 2, 3, 4_ – and finally turns his head to check if Aaron’s even listening. He’s still staring at the ceiling, still utterly, infuriatingly mute.

“If you want me to go-”

“I never said that,” Aaron cuts in and Robert’s too relieved at finally hearing his voice to keep going. His whole body relaxes, spine pressing down into the soft wool of the blanket, and he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself smiling.

It shouldn’t make him feel this triumphant, not when getting Aaron to say anything is about as easy as drawing blood from a stone. But it’s still a win, so he’s clinging onto that.

“You’re not _saying_ anything,” Robert mutters, more to goad Aaron into keeping talking than because he’s genuinely irked by it. He’s fine with silence, it’s a nice change from the chaos and bickering up at Home Farm. Here there’s just the soft tap of rainfall and the creak of wood and the low sigh of the wind coming in under the barn doors. It feels closer to home then he’s experienced in a very long time and part of him wonders if it’s as much to do with the company he’s keeping as it is to do with where they are.

 _Don’t_ , he thinks, and it’s a wise decision. He shouldn’t be straying into that kind of territory. It won’t end well.

Aaron huffs out another breath, sounding exasperated, and then rolls over onto his side, his head propped up a little on his folded-up hoodie. He’s only wearing his t-shirt and a pair of soft, black boxers which hug against his thighs in all the best ways. Robert’s eyes linger on the fine, dark hair across his legs, rising against the cold breeze whistling through the barn. He wants to reach out, rest a hand on Aaron’s knee, stroke his rough, warm skin with the pad of his thumb. But they’re not there, never have been and never will be.

Fucking is easy. Everything else… isn’t.

“Maybe I don’t fancy talking about you getting hitched in less than a month,” Aaron says, and the words leave Robert a little raw, like Aaron’s scrubbed at his skin with a steel scouring pad. Aaron must notice the shock on his face because he quickly rolls back till he’s facing the ceiling again, breaking the connection.

“Gonna miss me, is that it?” Robert jokes, only his smile falters before the words are even out and he knows instinctively that Aaron doesn’t find it funny. Thinking about it, Robert’s not sure he’s ever seen Aaron laugh and the realisation of that clamps down on his heart way too much to be tolerable.

 _Why haven’t I made you laugh?_ He thinks it and then immediately erases the question from his mind, distancing himself from the sudden urge welling up inside him to say something which will have Aaron smiling. It’s not his job. It’s nothing to do with him. If Aaron wants to laugh then he’ll do it himself, he doesn’t need Robert trying to force him into it.

The silence returns, sharper than before, more pronounced, and Robert can’t relax anymore. He’s too on-edge, ready for a battle Aaron isn’t going to start. They don’t do arguments, just like they don’t do talking. They fight it out with harsh kisses and blunt fingernails, leaving marks on each other which will fade quicker than an exchange of harsh words. Robert should be relieved – _no strings, no risks_ , that’s what he’d said before, and he’d meant it. Without emotion, there was no danger.

But then… wasn’t a little danger just part of the fun?

“Did you hear what I said?” he pushes, and now he really does prod at Aaron’s ribs with his index finger. Aaron growls low in his chest, and heat pools in Robert’s stomach, his desire bursting back into flames.

“I heard,” Aaron retorts, stubbornly refusing to turn around. “And I’m not gonna miss you. I just don’t get why you’d marry her.”

It’s the exact opposite of how he wanted this to go. In the few seconds between Aaron’s growl and his admission, Robert had created a full, vivid fantasy of having his arms pinned at either side of his head while Aaron bit and sucked at his mouth, blue eyes blazing as he pressed his hips into Robert’s, the two of them groaning as the pressure built…

Now it seems that fantasy is to be firmly relegated so that Aaron can have free reign to judge Robert’s choices. _Brilliant._

“And you know all about wedded bliss, do you?” Robert finds himself biting back with, his hackles rising even as he tells himself it’s not that big a deal. A harmless jibe really, only it’s already gotten under his skin and he can _feel_ it digging deeper, polluting his firmly-held certainty like a parasite.

Aaron shrugs, keeps staring at the rotting wooden beams overhead, and Robert genuinely wants to smack his arm, get him to turn round. They can’t start an argument with one of them refusing to even meet the other’s eye.

“Don’t know anything about marriage. Don’t want to either,” Aaron says, and this… well, it shouldn’t probably be a surprise to Robert and yet it is. Somehow he’d always assumed Aaron would be the type to want to settle down eventually, maybe not enter into the whole ‘white wedding’ tradition but definitely commit to someone long-term. Hadn’t he done that once before? With the boyfriend… the one who had the accident?

“Really?” he asks, because as much as this doesn’t affect him in any way, he still finds it curious, hearing Aaron so resolute about something when he’s usually so reticent.

“It’s just a pantomime, isn’t it? Standing up there and saying your vows, even though chances are you won’t make it more than a year before you’re both at each other’s throats. It’s just a waste of time and money.”

He sounds too bitter to be fully believed and Robert knows there’s more to it than that, but he also knows it’s not his place to question him too much. Still, this is the most Aaron has said all day and he can’t quite convince himself to leave it be when he might just have touched upon a goldmine of information Aaron has never opened up to him about.

“So you can’t imagine yourself up at the altar in your best suit, then? Can’t imagine Chas with her camera out snapping pictures of you and your other half?”

The worst part is, _Robert_ can _._ He can picture it already, Aaron in a crisp shirt and tailored jacket, smiling softly in that heartbreaking way of his, nervously tripping over his words in a bid to get them out quicker. He can envisage Chas sniffling as she takes photo after photo, video after video, gushing over how happy she is. He can even imagine the rest of the Dingle mob necking drinks like there’s no tomorrow, the reception no doubt held in the pub because what celebration would be complete without a proper knees-up? He can see it all, see every detail, and he’s got no idea why Aaron would struggle to picture the same thing.

“Like I said… it’s just not for me,” Aaron says but it comes out quiet, sombre, accepting. Robert hates it, hates the look in his eye as though he’s given up… given up on hoping.

“Maybe one day, though. All you need is to find the right person and then everything can change.” He’s got no idea what he’s saying now or why he’s saying it. Only that Aaron needs to hear it, needs to know that it’s not too late, that it’s _never_ too late. That he’s too young to be cutting himself off from his future like this.

Aaron sniffs hard though Robert can see his eyes are dry, thankfully, and then sits up suddenly, his t-shirt riding up his back to reveal a small strip of pale skin just above the waistband of his boxers. Robert can almost feel the heat radiating off of him and wants to press his mouth to the ridges of his spine, feel them against his tongue.

He stays still.

“Speaking from experience?” Aaron eventually asks over his shoulder, and his gaze is direct now, piercing, challenging almost, like he’s daring Robert to refute it, to say something different. Robert squirms a little on the blanket, can’t seem to meet Aaron’s stare no matter how hard he tries.

“Yeah,” is all he manages and it’s not enough and it doesn’t even ring true, or not in the way he’d intended at least. Because he did find Chrissie… but she hadn't changed everything for him, she'd just added something new, something different to his own fragile life. She was an extension rather than an entire remodelling and Robert's fine with that. He’d been fine with that.

_All you need is to find the right person and then everything can change._

And he has. It just isn’t the person he's marrying…


End file.
